Corrupted blood lord

Teclos exhaled slowly and lifted the thick parchment in front of him. The quill felt strange in his hand—feathered, with a sharp tip—and the ink beside him glimmered faintly, something that wouldn’t be erased once he put it on the parchment.

For a moment, he simply stared at it, heart thumping loudly. Today was the day he had been preparing for ever since he first learned about this ceremony.

He dipped the quill carefully and turned the first page.

The test began with questions about monsters—creatures that lurked beyond Kolma, waiting in the shadows or simply existing as part of the world’s dangerous tapestry.

The exam divided them into two categories: beasts and monsters. Beasts were more like animals from his old world, but with powers—usually docile or harmless if left unprovoked. Monsters, on the other hand, were dangerous, often aggressive, and sometimes terrifyingly intelligent.

The first few questions were straightforward. A water buffalo with the ability to manipulate water, a griffin, a Pegasus, a unicorn, a firebear—he had to list their temperaments, noting which could be approached safely and which demanded caution.

There were some trick questions mixed in as well, such as a seemingly innocent and even cute-looking forest deer with soft brown fur and wide, trusting yellow eyes. The Viper Stag, it was called. It had venomous fangs. Highly aggressive when cornered. Its venom capable of melting skin and paralyzing its victim within minutes.

Looking over at Ralph and Gillard, Teclos suppressed a grin. He saw Ralph lightly tapping the table in frustration, while Gillard muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of it all.

The next section demanded he list the truly dangerous creatures: Dragons, Manticores, Gargoyles, Phoenixes. For each, he noted intelligence, behavior, and known weaknesses. The Basilisk was last—a creature whose gaze could petrify and instantly kill you. Teclos wrote: be cautious and do not approach. Observe from a safe distance. Requires multiple hunters or specific magic to neutralize.

Satisfied, he glanced at his neighbors again. Surprisingly, Ralph’s pen moved confidently, and unsurprisingly, Gillard gripped his quill tightly, his hand remained still without writing anything. A faint laugh rose in Teclos’ chest, but he forced it down and turned the page.

The next section was numbers. Math and money. Alvar’s currency had four denominations: copper, silver, gold, and platinum, each rising by a factor of one hundred. A simple system in theory: one hundred copper made a silver, one hundred silver made a gold, and one hundred gold made a platinum. Trading, though, introduced the challenge—converting coins, calculating profit, and adjusting for seasonal scarcity.

Teclos worked through the problems quickly.

Each problem required careful calculation and attention to the exchange system, but his mind flowed easily—this was middle-school math for him.

Again, he glanced around. Ralph continued at a steady pace, occasionally pausing to think, while Gillard clutched his head, jaw tight in despair. The tension radiating from Gillard made Teclos shake his head.

There was no doubt in his mind that Gillard hadn’t studied at all and just worked at the forge instead.

He dipped the quill again and moved to the next page.

Herbal knowledge came next, and Teclos felt a spark of excitement. Healing plants, mana-replenishing herbs, medicines—he knew everything. Mint and chamomile for minor ailments, heartleaf to stabilize mana, sunbloom to boost stamina, nightroot for fatigue. Each herb had multiple uses, and a few were deadly if combined incorrectly. He wrote down the properties carefully, imagining the fields just outside Kolma, the scent of sunbloom and the rustle of leaves.

Looking up, he caught sight of Gillard yet again, and he was slumped in despair. Ralph also seemed to scratch his head over something. Teclos frowned slightly. He was starting to get worried for Gillard—but he forced himself to focus back on his parchment.

The next section was his weakest: nobility and etiquette. He took a deep breath. Names, ranks, proper behavior in front of nobles—every detail mattered.

The exam expected knowledge of the royal family: King Roderic Draevenfall—his age, official title, appearance, and demeanor. Nearly the entire royal family had blonde hair and red eyes, and the king possessed a Light mana affinity.

Then Queen Lysandra Draevenfall—similar details, except she had piercing blue eyes instead and a Water mana affinity.

He even had to name his children and what was known about them.

Like Princess Talia, that she was twelve, and had wind affinity.

Prince Darion, eleven, Lightning affinity.

And lastly, Princess Seraphine, who had an Earth affinity.

Why he had to know all this was beyond him, but nonetheless, he continued.

Then came the nobles he might actually meet, since they were closest to their town.

Starting with Count Aweq Van Denos—nearing his thirties, slick black hair neatly combed back, striking blue eyes. He was known as the benevolent ruler of Teclos’ county and had a wife and daughter.

Then the southern noble bordering their county: Count Bellagar. Still in his early twenties, long red hair, deep brown eyes. Known as somewhat of a womanizer, with three wives and a young son.

With that tedious task of describing people irrelevant to his daily life finished, he moved on.

The instructions about decorum and etiquette toward nobles emphasized proper conduct: bowing from the waist, speaking only when addressed to, recognizing insignia and rank, maintaining a respectful tone.

Teclos’ hand shook slightly as he wrote. It was a lot to remember, and he was sure he forgot some things.

Feeling nervous, he glanced at his neighbors again. Ralph wrote confidently and quickly. Maybe sticking close to him would not be a bad idea if they ever encountered a noble.

Gillard, meanwhile, leaned forward and banged his forehead lightly against the desk. Teclos tried not to laugh. Clearly, he was a hopeless case.

Finally, the exam moved to kingdom knowledge: maps, borders, allies, and enemies.

Teclos’ eyes lit up. Alvar, their homeland, sat at the center of the continent—a strategically disadvantageous location.

To the north lay the Orc Kingdom of Gorlok, warring openly with Alvar.

To the west was the Human Kingdom of Tessania, bound by a treaty of alliance.

To the east, the Elven Kingdom of Ellyria maintained a non-aggression pact.

To the south sprawled the Lizardmen Empire of Lustrion, a neutral nation but there were talks of war.

Between Lustrion and Alvar rose the Dragon Peaks, a mountain range stretching for hundreds of kilometers—dwarven territory. Neutral, but formidable.

Religion was part of the test: the Order of Dawn preached peace and guidance but enforced obedience harshly. Its contradictions were clear—mercy for the devout, punishment for the defiant. Temples and clergy were woven into governance, influencing trade, law, and social order.

Teclos traced the borders in his mind while filling in answers: key cities, important rivers, mountain passes, trade routes.

His mind wandered for a second and imagined the Radiant King Roderic issuing decrees from the capital, Queen Lysandra managing affairs with quiet authority.

Count Aweq with a smug smile and wine in his hands, reigning over his county, a steady and benevolent presence for the villages all around, while Count Bellagar’s family navigated the political complexities of the southern lands.

A fleeting thought crossed his mind—it might not have been so bad to be born a noble.

Every line he wrote pulled him deeper into the world beyond Kolma. The quill scratched rhythmically against the parchment, and Teclos smiled faintly, planning to see everything for himself someday.

By the time he set down the quill, his wrist ached and his brow was damp with sweat. He felt mentally drained.

He had cataloged monsters and beasts, solved all the math and trading questions, worked through currency problems, recorded the properties of essential herbs, carefully noted noble etiquette, and mapped the kingdom with its precarious borders. The test was painfully long, yet exhilarating at the same time.

There were not only written questions but also hand-drawn illustrations of beasts, herbs, currency, nobles—and even a map. He had even managed to learn something during the test itself.

This world was full of opportunity—beautiful, yet dangerous.

He leaned back and allowed himself a moment to look around the hall. Sunlight poured through the high windows, illuminating polished wood and drifting dust motes. Elders sat silently along the walls, observing, while the young students bent over their pages, pens and quills scratching, minds working.

Ralph wrote with a calm, focused expression, his quill barely ever stopped.

Gillard, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life—muttering and groaning, scratching his head in despair.

Teclos shook his head, he was a tad bit worried for him.

’Seems like he’ll need some cheering up after today,’ he thought.

The exam had already done what it was intended to do. It had measured knowledge, focus, and patience. But more than that, it had shown him a glimpse of the world outside Kolma—the allies, the enemies, the dangers, and the protections, all woven together like threads in a tapestry.

He felt the weight of his coming-of-age ceremony as more than tradition. It was preparation—a map for survival, a guide for his mind learning how to live in a complicated, beautiful, and dangerous world.

The first trial, the written portion, was complete. Teclos exhaled, letting the quill rest between his fingers before placing it carefully beside the inkpot. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, steadying his breathing.

There was still nearly half an hour remaining.

Around him, parchment still rustled and quills scratched in uneven rhythms—some frantic, others slow and lost.

Teclos glanced down at his completed pages and pulled the stack closer again. If this knowledge was meant to prepare them for adulthood, then he would not waste a single breath of it.

He began re-reading.

The distinctions between beast and monster. The conversion of copper to silver, silver to gold. The rigid etiquette required before nobility. The borders of Alvar.

He traced each answer with his eyes, committing them into memory. Someday, in some unforeseen moment, a single forgotten detail might mean the difference between life and death.

The remaining time slipped by quietly.

Then the scratching stopped.

"Hands off the tables. Quills down."

Elira’s voice cut cleanly through the hall. Commanding and final.

Teclos blinked and lifted his gaze. Elira had stepped forward from the wall, hands folded neatly before her. The elders rose from their seats at the corners.

"Remain seated," she instructed. "The elders will collect your papers."

Chairs creaked softly as nervous tension shifted through the room. One by one, parchments were gathered, stacked, and carried to the long table at the front. Teclos watched his own pages disappear into the pile.

When the last parchment was collected, Elira looked over the hall of sixty youths, with an unreadable expression.

"You may leave now."

That was all.

Benches scraped loudly against the floor, whispers erupted, and the heavy doors of the guild hall swung open as sunlight poured inside. Teclos caught a final glimpse of the elders taking their seats around the table, already unrolling the first sheets and preparing to grade them.

Then he stepped outside.

The festival air hit him at once—music, laughter, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread. Villagers milled about in high spirits.

A burst of laughter caught his attention.

Ralph was doubled over, clutching his stomach, while Gillard stood stiff as a post, face flushed crimson.

Curious, Teclos approached them.

Ralph wheezed the moment he saw him. "Get this—" he gasped between laughs, "—he mixed up a cockatrice and a gorgon!"

He bent over again, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Teclos couldn’t help it. A chuckle escaped him.

Gillard’s ears turned even redder. "Alright, alright already!" he snapped, throwing his hands up. "It happens to the best of us, okay?! They both have wings, scales, and can fly—close enough!"

Teclos, still amused, replied without thinking. "Man... hunters have to know this stuff. Hopefully the elders overlook it. Otherwise, it could affect your path selection."

Suddenly there was only silence.

Ralph stopped laughing.

Gillard’s expression shifted instantly from embarrassment into worry.

"You think...?" he muttered.

Teclos blinked, only now realizing what he had implied. Before he could recover, his gaze drifted across the festival grounds—and he spotted his father seated at a long wooden table, tankard of ale in hand, speaking animatedly with Kosak.

Opportunity.

He clapped both friends lightly on the shoulders. "Relax. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be back."

Gillard didn’t look entirely convinced.

"Meet by the tavern in an hour?" Teclos added.

Ralph nodded, seeing where Teclos was headed. "Yeah. Go see if you can squeeze some coins out of your old man."

Teclos grinned and headed toward the table, already considering how best to ask for a few extra coppers. Perhaps something sweet from the stalls. Or maybe—if luck favored him—something better.

Behind him, the festival carried on in full swing, laughter rising into the evening sky as the day quietly drew toward the end.